


together, to be

by amaranth (xiseoks)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, M/M, Vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26574214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiseoks/pseuds/amaranth
Summary: Even in the face of death, Minseok struggles to reveal his heart to the one he’d die for.
Relationships: Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Minseok | Xiumin
Comments: 9
Kudos: 38
Collections: Lil' Something Fest 2020





	together, to be

**Author's Note:**

> owo

In retrospect, Minseok should have known better than to clean his bar right before an apocalypse. 

“Fuck,” he spat, simultaneously balancing his shotgun and wiping the blood off the surface of his bar the best he could with his sleeve. In his distraction, a rotting hand reached in between the space of his boarded-up windows, grabbing his collar. 

Before Minseok could scream, an empty tequila bottle shattered over the undead’s head, followed by a violent stab with the broken, sharp ends into its rotting flesh. Minseok wrenched himself free from its loosening grip, panting.

“The rest of the town’s evacuated and here you are, fussing over the shine of your bar.”

“I just cleaned it,” Minseok defended without thinking, before he realized he knew that voice. 

Jongdae stood before him, shattered tequila bottle in hand, horribly smug grin on his face. 

“How did you get in?” Minseok asked, as he had already boarded up all the windows and entryways of his bar, though it didn’t bode well against the crowds of zombies that were beginning to pile up against the building. 

“Rooftop,” Jongdae said, flipping his broken bottle and catching it by the handle. God, what a showoff. “It’s good luck these fellas don’t fly, hm?”

“I’d hardly call them good luck,” Minseok said. In one quick motion, he pushed Jongdae behind him and shot an undead that had managed to wedge its head between two boards. 

“I nearly missed the building, did you know?” Jongdae said. “I had almost mistaken these guys for the drunk businessmen that frequent your bar.”

Minseok barked out a laugh. “When it comes to the businessmen and the undead, I would rather deal with the undead,” he said. “They don’t flirt with my waitresses and make them uncomfortable, and they don’t throw fists when I cut them off for the night. Plus, it’s socially acceptable for me to shoot _them_ in the head, you see.”

On Jongdae’s wing of the bar, it looked like his broken bottle wouldn’t do him good for much longer. With a call of his name, Minseok tossed Jongdae his shotgun instead, pulling his own knife out from its sheathe. 

“And maybe I like having them around,” Minseok said. “To keep thieves like you away.”

“Is that so?” Jongdae asked, tone dripping in amusement. “Because while the rest of the town evacuated, you were here, boarding up windows instead. Was it perhaps because you heard I was in town and knew I couldn't resist dropping by?”

Minseok scoffed in delight just as he knifed at a zombie that had gotten a bit too close to him. He bumped into a shelf of fine glasses, watching pitifully as they shattered onto the floor. “You’re one to talk. The rest of the town has evacuated, yes, yet you made a clear effort to climb onto the rooftop of my bar and find me instead.” 

“Oh, I’m practically in love with you, darling, that’s been well established,” Jongdae said. He fired his rounds at the rotting hands clawing through the wood. “I’ve nothing to hide, when it comes to my heart. What I’ve been trying to do is getting you to admit the same.”

Jongdae fired off as Minseok impaled a zombie on the leg of a barstool, then threw it in the direction of another that had managed to break loose into the bar. 

“I don’t give my heart to just anyone,” Minseok said, “especially not to some gangster from the big city.”

“Gangster!” Jongdae exclaimed. He tore his gaze away from the undead to look at Minseok with widened, offended eyes, as if they weren’t surrounded by monsters. “Such a dirty word, and spoken with such conviction!”

“Maybe it isn’t the undead that’s caused the evacuation, but because they knew a thief like you was coming into town,” Minseok joked. “Last time I checked, it wasn’t a zombie plastered all over the wanted posters.”

“I should hope not,” Jongdae said, reloading his shotgun and cocking it in a single flip. “I know very well what my status is in this town, and I couldn’t care less. The only status I care about is the one I have with you.”

Minseok’s hands froze on his knife, currently lodged in an undead’s head, as he glanced up at Jongdae, taken aback by all the mischief and jokes gone from his expression. It was replaced with a seriousness that was rare when it came to him. 

“So tell me,” Jongdae said between shots, “what is our status?”

Blood spattered lightly across Minseok’s face as he wrenched his knife out of the undead’s head. He sighed, turning to Jongdae, because yes, he was stubborn, and yes, even in the face of death it was difficult to get him to admit his feelings. 

But he would be lying to himself if he said Jongdae didn’t already have his heart, this arrogant bank robber from the big city with the charming, but kind smile and a way with words that pathetically made Minseok swoon. 

“I boarded up the bar windows instead of evacuating with everyone else because I knew you would come looking for me, and I didn’t want to leave without you,” Minseok said. “What does that tell you of our status?”

The smile that slowly spread on Jongdae’s face was worth every threat that clawed at the walls of Minseok’s bar, every hungry groan that called for their blood. It wasn’t his usual cocky, arrogant smile, no. It was the one Minseok only saw in quiet times, the one that rang true not to Kim Jongdae, the notorious thief, but Kim Jongdae, the man with a chaotically good nature and a heart too big for his own good.

“I’m afraid I need a bit more than that,” Jongdae said. “Just to be sure.”

“What more could I possibly say?” Minseok said. 

“I would like to hear you say the exact words,” Jongdae said. “We could die here, love. Do you want to die with regrets?”

In the haze of their distraction, one of the boarded windows was overcome by the undead piling against it. They broke through the wood, their rotting torsos leaning over the edge as their hands reached and grabbed for Minseok and Jongdae. 

“The exact words?” Minseok asked, even if he already knew what it meant. It was always fun to leave him asking for more, begging for more. 

“Yes,” he called. Minseok twisted his knife into a zombie’s skull and backed away from the overflowing window until his back hit Jongdae, who immediately pulled him close to him by a hand on his waist. 

Minseok turned to face him, his eyes falling shut and his pulse thrumming loudly. “Does my heartbeat not say it all for me?” he said.

“You know I need to hear it from you, love,” Jongdae said. “A rapid heartbeat can mean anything when one is seconds away from death.”

“A very fair point, sir,” Minseok said, twisting his waist and reaching around Jongdae to slash his knife through a nearing zombie’s neck. “But I would like to make a disclaimer, if you don’t terribly mind.”

Jongdae hummed, shot a zombie in the head before meeting Minseok’s concerned gaze. Even with the dead all around them, their groans seeping into the air, the rotten nails scratching at the boards that kept them from eating them alive, there would never be a moment where time didn’t stand still as their gazes locked. 

“My heart only ever beats at all when it’s around you,” Minseok said. 

Jongdae—face covered in faint specks of the undead’s blood—was as beautiful as ever as the corner of his lip perked up into a smile. He was breathing hard, panting from the exertion of fighting off zombies.

“I’m not saying it now,” Minseok said, “because we’re not dying here. I’ll say it someday. And I’ll keep us alive until then.”

In one swift movement, he stole Jongdae’s shotgun and shot the pillar of the ceiling. It came crashing down on the hoard of zombies that had scratched through the boarded wood, dust and dirt clouding Minseok’s senses as he pulled Jongdae away and ran in the opposite direction. With the rest of the undead distracted by the noise of the collapse, Minseok kicked down the front doors, and they fought through the thinning masses while bursting out onto the open, empty street. 

“We can only pray now the ferry hasn’t left the wharf yet,” Jongdae said, nimble fingers wrapping around Minseok’s wrist as he began to lead him down the desolate street. It looked like a warzone here, nothing like the thriving nightlife Minseok was so fond of. It was a ghost of it instead, lights shattered against the rain-slicked streets, broken glass in the seats of toppled vehicles. 

“Hold on,” Minseok said, pulling Jongdae back by the sleeve of his suit. He flattened the bit of Jongdae’s hair that came askew and straightened his tie, dusting the bit of soot off his shoulder, despite the rest of him being covered in spatters of brown blood and dirt. “Your tie came a bit loose.”

Jongdae grinned, grabbing Minseok by his suspenders and kissing him hard on the mouth. They kissed for what felt like years, even as the undead—just yards away—began to limp in their direction. 

They parted with a matching light in their eyes, before Jongdae took Minseok by the hand, entwined their fingers, and pulled him down the street with a beam on his face. They dashed down to the docks, the muffled groans of zombies masking the faint croon of jazz music they’ve left behind.


End file.
